The Fog of Peace
by ardavenport
Summary: Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon have been called upon to witness something that can't be seen.
1. Chapter 1

**THE FOG OF PEACE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

Obi-Wan Kenobi ran back to where he had been, stumbling on uneven patches of grassy ground. His heavy breathing filled the soundless air around him.

He stopped. Turned one way. Then the other. Behind him.

Nothing but fog.

Was this the same place?

He began pacing a spiral outward, looking down at green-gray tufts of grass, dark green crawling vines and flattened patches of bright yellowish-green with clusters of very tiny white flowers. He cleared his mind and plodded on, seeking guidance from the Force, that strong sense of intuition that would tell him what was the right spot. But all he felt was fog.

Gray fog, so thick that it limited his world to himself and the small patch of ground he traversed. So no matter how far he went, he always remained in the same place. This planet had only one primary star, but Obi-Wan could not tell where it would be in the sky. But it was somewhere in its day cycle behind the uniform gray of fog around him.

The air on his face felt as if it were two temperatures, the coolness of the air itself and the clamminess of the moisture suspended in it. Still circling outward, he felt disoriented, his body tilted too far to one side.

He tripped.

And rolled on the ground, his heavy robe helping to cushion the fall. He ended up on his back and stared up at perfectly smooth, blank grayness, endless and closely confining at the same time.

His body felt numbed, like his senses. And still dizzy, as if he was still rolling. He gulped air to steady himself.

He knew he should be doing better. At seventeen standard years of age, he had been a Jedi Padawan for years now. But his vision sank away from the fog, the grayness receding further and further above him through a long black tunnel.

Obi-Wan shook his head, disturbed but his mind still blank. Not from clarity in the Force, but from hazy confusion. He rolled over. A line of pain seared his biceps and remained while he positioned himself on his hands and knees. He breathed deeply, steadily and eventually his thoughts and sight began to solidify. He sat back, his legs under him and groped the sleeve of his robe on his right arm. His fingers found a thin shaft embedded in the coarse fabric. He pulled it away, held it up. Touched the smooth length of it, his forefinger stopping at the needle point.

A dart? Poison? Drug?

His head floated in the fog. His arm burned from the grazing wound on his skin. He lowered his head and that seemed to help steady it. The dart slipped out of his fingers.

There was nothing but his small patch of ground and the fog, close around him on all sides and above, like a huge hazy gray bowl turned over him. He tried to push his senses beyond it in the Force. To Qui-Gon.

His Master was. . . . . somewhere. Not near. Not active. But not dead. Small living creatures swarmed and darted about their own business out of sight in the opaque air and among the sparse plants of this plain. And there were others. . . . . looking for him. He tilted his head back, all his senses listening.

Stumbling, he climbed to his feet and swayed precariously before a distant hum focused his attention again.

He ran, his body falling forward with each step away from the searchers behind him. Light-headed, he could not tell if he traveled up or down the very slight incline of the plain. Up and out of the immense crater and its permanent fog or down further into danger? Away from his pursuers was the right direction for now.

His heavy breathing filled his ears again, his head, the air around him, clouding the Force with static. He paused to look around, gasping over a swallow. The gray haze surrounded him like a room with no windows or doors. He ran on.

A fat black column passed him on his left before vanishing into the gray behind him. He ran on.

Another column passed him, further away on his right. He had re-entered the forest, away from his goal, the ship that he and Qui-Gon had arrived in. But the trees would impede the sensors, transports and speeders searching for him.

Obi-Wan leaped, only the Force guiding his blind jump into the solid grayness above over the sudden, random discharge of the patch of flicker-knats on the grassy ground. Glowing blue specks of energy softly snapped under him. His boots solidly thumped on the rough grass. The sparking knats disappeared in the gray behind him.

More smooth black tree trunks passed him on both sides. He ran faster, breathing the Force hard into his whole body.

He leaped again, high into the grayness.

The ground disappeared under him. Passing the limits of the speed and strength of his jump he continued to ascend, lifted up by the Force alone against the planet's gravity. He glimpsed the straight, featureless tree trunk before his legs broke past the ends of long dark leaves spreading out from the tree's crown. He reached his apex and descended, sliding into the rustling, cracking debris at the crown of the treetop. A flock of frightened, chittering skin-winged creatures took flight in all directions around him. Painful energy sparks flashed and stabbed him through his robe and tunics before he slid down into the solid center of their nest. His limbs twitched and trembled into the pile of old leaves and dried animal parts and wastes. Fighting to still himself to keep from sinking deeper into the nest, Obi-Wan drew his heavy Jedi robe around him. Already a few brave skin-wings from the disturbed flock circling above descended to investigate the invader of their home.

Huddled under his hood, clutching his robe to him, he breathed in their smells. Oxygen from the plant, sharp acidic wastes, dried flakes and dead flowers, their sweet living scents still clinging to them. He inhaled them into himself and deeply into the Force, masking his presence with an impression of their own.

The investigators fluttered uncertainly over the brown robe partially covered with brown debris. A few alighted, needle-like little claws digging in. They chirped and sent sharp sparks into Obi-Wan's body, but his new focus allowed the pain to flow through him into the Force. The first ones settled in place. The rest of the flight of skin-wings circled lower and noisily followed.

Remaining still, Obi-Wan felt them taking their places all around and on top of him, their claws and slight weight barely felt through the mild shocks of their normal chatter. Concealed from sight and sensor in the treetop nest, he felt his concentration return, the fog in his mind receding.

He and Qui-Gon had deflected the initial volley of long darts with their lightsabers. But one misstep had spilled Obi-Wan off his speeder bike onto the ground. Just before a massive wave of darts felled his Master. Two diving attackers on speeder bikes had driven Obi-Wan away and a near miss disoriented him into a confused escape. He now lay on his right side in the nest, on the line of pain still stinging across his arm.

His senses fully awake, Obi-Wan listened. A speeder bike drone in the distance rose in pitch, approaching, reached its height and then dove down in tone, receding.

Friend or foe?

He stayed hidden.

The small creatures settled into the warm folds and crevices of his robe. They cooed with only an occasional flutter and spark between them. Obi-Wan listened, but he heard no more transports though he still sensed them through the Force. But he could not sense his Master other than the vague certainty that he was still alive.

Was Qui-Gon captured? Likely. But why? Why would either partisan side want to thwart the Jedi who had been called as neutral witnesses to any activities in the Zirosh Crater, a huge perpetually foggy land feature, an enormous circle, visible from orbit and notorious for harboring bandits on this world for millennia. The place where the Pazash faction claimed now concealed a Tash-Pazash invasion army. The Tash-Pazash vigorously denied this claim, that they were only accelerating their attacks on the local banditry.

Obi-Wan had had started out early with his Master on speeder bikes from the edge of the crater, using mostly the Force as their guide. No sensors, no droid satellite eyes could reliably penetrate the haze and ambient discharges of the local fauna. But they had found no bunkers, no large hangars to accommodate an invasion army. Oddly they had only found a small base of rangers wearing the uniforms of both the Pazash and Tash-Pazash, a police force of exactly the right size for hunting and capturing criminals. They approached it stealthily, not identifying themselves but observing, recording the sighting, before moving on.

Soon after that the pursuit had begun, transports and speeders buzzing after them in the fog, hails of darts curtaining their path. Neither of them had seen who came after them through the impenetrable fog, but their intent was obvious. Capture.

A small shrill fight broke out between some of the skin-wings at the edge of the nest and the others chirped and screeched their opinions, sending a flurry of sparks over Obi-Wan's body. He remained still, his interrupted thoughts refocusing on being a part of the group, letting the shocks pass though him.

Qui-Gon had expected an attack if they had found an army. But would the Pazash be so angry to have their claims disproved? Obi-Wan could think of no other motive, but it would be a shockingly short-sighted plan. Missing or dead Jedi would only bring more scrutiny to whatever might or might not be concealed in the Zirosh Crater.

Another transport rumble drew his attention. It was low and large, accompanied by the higher-toned hum of speeder bikes.

Friend or foe?

Clearing his mind, Obi-Wan waited. The sounds came closer. The skin-wings snuggled closer to him, on top of him. His nose ran from breathing in the dust and decayed plants for so long. The transport passed close by, gliding over the ground far below his tree top.

Recognition.

At least some of the people in this transport had met them at the edge of the crater when they had arrived. Obi-Wan tensed, gathering the Force to him. Annoyed, the skin-wings fluttered, squeaking and sparking over his back and limbs.

The speeder bikes had moved ahead. The transport passed slowly.

The skin-wings flew up in all directions, blue-white sparks flashing all around him as Obi-Wan shot up into the air, over the fringe of the tree top and down, falling into the gray fog.

He landed on his feet in the middle of the open floor of the transport, crouching down to cushion the impact in a shower of scattered leaves and brown flakes and bits. A swarm of angry skin wings came with him, dark, furry brown bodies emitting twisting flashes of small lightning.

The people on the transport cried out, ducking the sudden attack. Someone activated a shield and a transparent bubble of energy protection formed overhead, trapping four skin-wings with them.

A low power blaster pinged inside the enclosure until all four flyers had been downed, the stunned bodies collected and taken up front.

"Yeeush eesh oash, hehsh Jedish," Timash Outsh, the Tash-Pazash security commander who had been part of the party that had met their ship the day before, said in greeting. Then, "Huush huush esh aaaush haash Jinnish?"

"Master Qui-Gon has been captured, but I don't know by who. We were attacked."

"Yuuosh yuuosh! Hafsh toosh nish hamash!" Outsh called back to the front of the transport, his head turned all the way around on its long green neck. His crisply uniformed aide handed him a clear plastoid bottle and Outsh offered it to Obi-Wan, his slender arm as long as Obi-Wan was tall. He gratefully accepted and took a long drink of metallic tasting warm water, washing away the lingering taste of the nest. The he tried to brush off the debris clinging to his robe and the front of his tunic. But when he looked up, nobody had moved. Everyone stood in place. Watching him. A head in the forward pilot's cabin leaned over to look his way as well.

The water bottle slipped out of his suddenly weak grasp, bouncing and gurgling as it rolled aside, spilling its contents as it went.

Obi-Wan blinked. His mouth moved but nothing came out. He fell to his knees. The Tash-Pazash watched, their light-green eyes wide with interest.

Friend of foe?

The deck of the transport tilted toward Obi-Wan and his arm went up, sluggishly as if he pushed it through water. The impact on the deck felt cushioned and muffled. His body, loose and warm, rolled over and he stared up at the gray sky. Four slender green heads on long necks with pale green eyes looked down at him. The image darkened and drifted as his eyes kept closing and it became harder and harder for him to keep them open. He finally let them close as a comfortable glow spread out from his body to his limbs and his thoughts drifted into a soft, wonderful sleep.

**- - - END Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**THE FOG OF PEACE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2**

Bright late afternoon sunlight shone on the reddish stone of a rocky overhang overlooking a foggy shore below. The impenetrable haze made a weird, flat sea with no visible shore on the other side with the curve of the Zirosh crater's edge barely discernable from the ground.

A small light gray space ship with the red makings of the Galactic Republic cast a lengthening shadow over its improvised landing platform on the overhang.

The distant hum and rumble of engines drew near and grew louder. A convoy of speeders and transports emerged up from out of the gray. They formed a line before the Republic ship on the foggy shore of the crater.

People emerged. Tall thin figures with long arms and legs and heads. Yellow-skinned Pazash in tan uniforms. Green-skinned Tash-Pazash in light blue uniforms. Some guided two lift-flats, each with a still brown-robed figure on it.

An argument started.

A Pazash commander accused the Tash-Pazash of badly underestimating the Jedi and that they should have listened to their advice. And that everything had been ruined.

A Tash-Pazash diplomat shouted back that if the Pazash had kept better rein on the criers on their public coms that their current situation would never have emerged.

They traded unproductive accusations and insults. None of them immediately noticed one of the brown-robed figures struggling to sit up and blearily watch them.

The older Jedi turned his head from one group to the other, his arms supporting him, long hair drooping over the shoulders of his rumpled dark brown robe, bearded jaw slack and blue eyes unfocused. Some lower ranking Tazash and Tash-Pazash joined in with a few acerbic comments though it was unclear who was being critiqued. Diplomats from either side tried to divert the arguing back to discussing their problem . . . . until an underling squealed and pointed.

Pazash and Tash-Pazash stared, their large eyes fixed on the Jedi futilely swiping as some loose strands of brown hair. Simultaneously, two long darts, one with a yellow tail the other with green, struck the Jedi from both sides, jolting him into attention. A moment later he fell backward again onto the flat.

The arguing continued, but in hashed voices. A yellow skinned team hustled forward to take the lifter flats away out from under the Jedi, dumping them on the bare, reddish dirt. Some of the speeders and transports left, the remaining people speaking in more productive tones. More of them left until a single sleek speeder remained.

Commander Timash Outsh approached the smaller brown robe. He knelt by it, along with an aide who reached down with a white cylinder. Outsh turned the body over and the white cylinder hissed against Obi-Wan Kenobi's neck. The pair bent their long necks down to peer at him.

Obi-Wan felt a hot pricking in the back of his throat and his eyes opened to see a deeply shadowed green head looking down at him. Slender hands grasped his upper arms, the fingers going all the way around his biceps, and roughly shook him.

"Aaaash hooosh!" Outsh yelled at him to wake up. He and his aides' hands pulled Obi-Wan up to sit. He teetered precariously.

"Hoooweesh aash hosh-hosh-aaash auuush," Outsh went on, waving his arms theatrically about Pazash paranoia, Jedi arrogance and his security teams having to go rescue them from bandits. Obi-Wan squinted up at the tall thin security commander, catching most of Outsh's meaning but only half the words.

After finishing a summary of the critical report he would be transmitting back to their Jedi superiors Outsh and his aide left, sweeping their arms back dismissively.

Obi-Wan watched their speeder buzz away, making a sharp right turn at the fog-line of the crater.

He blinked.

Then looked toward the dark brown heap next to him.

Spurred into action, Obi-Wan reached for and then pulled himself to his Master's side, grasping a shoulder and shaking it. Getting no response, he pulled Qui-Gon over onto his back, the head flopping over to one side. Leaning close, Obi-Wan put his ear to the mouth, listened to the breathing, his hand on Qui-Gon's chest. He touched his forehead to Qui-Gon's. There was slow, steady life. No danger. But the older man was quite thoroughly unconscious. Drugged.

Sitting back, he ran a hand over his short hair, pulled the end of his Padawan's braid out from where it was trapped under the collar of his robe. Looking up at their ship, Obi-Wan waved a hand at it.

Nothing happened.

Closing his eyes, sinking into his focus, Obi-Wan raised his hand again.

This time, the ship's ramp lowered with a hum and whistling bursts of air.

He let his head fall back. Above him the cloudless blue sky stretched out to a bright, clear infinity. On his right, an ocean of fog filled the crater out to the horizon, white in the lowering sunlight. Inhaling deeply, the Force flowed through him, pushing back the haze of the drugs lingering in his body.

Leaning forward Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon's arm, pulling him up. In one smooth motion he put his feet under him, his shoulders under Qui-Gon's chest and stood. Grasping a leg and arm of Qui-Gon, he looked toward the darkened interior of the ship and steadily walked up the ramp, his boots thumping solidly with both their weights.

The interior lights came on as soon as his boots touched the deck. With one hand motion, he activated the ramp closure mechanism. Then he went to his knees. Their ship was tiny, with only the pilot and co-pilot seats and rear storage. He had to lay Qui-Gon down on the deck with his feet between the two forwards seats and his head near the rear bulkhead. After he carefully lowered Qui-Gon's head into the rumpled folds of his robe's hood the Force seemed to leave Obi-Wan all at once.

He sat shaking with his legs under him, his forehead resting on a cool metaloid access panel. His skin flushed, he shivered and took deep breaths to calm the nausea rising in him. He remembered the brief euphoria he had felt after drinking Outsh's drugged water just before he passed out. He supposed that they had given him another drug to revive him, but this dose did not include any soporific bliss.

His left hand slapped a control above him, activating the ship's waste disposer, just in case.

For long minutes he concentrated on steady breathing. The nausea did not get any worse, but it did not get better. His fingers clumsy, he unhooked his belt and lightsaber and laid them to the side. He lowered himself to the deck, stretching out next to Qui-Gon. Tugging out some of the uncomfortable folds of both robes under him, he bunched up his own hood under his head to cushion it on the deck plates.

Lying down eased his queasy stomach a bit. He lay on his side, with his arm over Qui-Gon's middle and the body heat between them helped him relax. Qui-Gon remained disconcertingly motionless and insensate. Obi-Wan supposed that he should get out the ship's med-kit and try to revive him, but at the moment he thought that one of them feeling unwell was enough.

The light from outside was noticeably darkened through the forward view ports. The sun must be going down. . . .

**- - - END Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**THE FOG OF PEACE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 3**

Obi-Wan pushed his nose into coarse fabric. But it didn't feel right. He opened his eyes. It was too dark. Qui-Gon's robe.

He lifted his head. The light looked wrong.

The forward view ports were black. It was night.

He rolled over onto his back.

His nausea had gone and as he sat up Obi-Wan gratefully breathed in the satisfying relief of no longer feeling sick. He tensed his shoulders and stretched his arms out wide and then each arm one at a time. The motion felt good. He stood, shook out his robe and stretched his whole body, his arms folded over his head, brushing the low ceiling of the ship, and then forward and back. He yawned hugely.

Finally looking down, he saw that Qui-Gon had not moved at all. Kneeling, he again leaned over and touched his forehead to his Master's. The Force remained strong, but muffled in an unnatural sleep. He sat back and reached up to touch a compartment release. After it slid open, he retrieved the ship's med-kit, but the scanner in it only confirmed what he already knew; Qui-Gon's vital signs were strong, but he was unresponsive. Remembering how unwell he had felt, Obi-Wan hesitated over he kit's small selection of generic stimulants. He put the kit away and, after using the ship's facilities and cleansing his hands, he bent over his Master again.

His arms under Qui-Gon's armpits, he levered the tall man upright and began dragging him forward. The Force flowed with strength for the Jedi, but it did not help much with the awkwardness of one skinny teenager trying to wrestle the limp body of a large full-grown man upright. Qui-Gon's long arms and legs, draped with long folds of Jedi robe, flopped and bumped in inconvenient ways. His lightsaber painfully dug into Obi-Wan's side.

With his nose covered with Qui-Gon's long hair, Obi-Wan jammed them both in between the two seats. He had to stretch to reach around his Master's hip to turn the co-pilot's toward him while his opposite shoulder only barely kept Qui-Gon from sliding down over the forward controls.

After finally pushing the big man down into the co-pilot's seat he immediately grabbed him under the arms and yanked him upright again before pulling the restraining straps over him. Then he fumbled with the seat adjustment to recline back so Qui-Gon's head would not hang down.

Exhaling in relief, Obi-Wan touched his Master's slack face. Feeling himself alone, he sensed the quiet, but unavailable presence under his fingertips as if through a transparent barrier.

He turned back to the controls and activated the com to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. There was no point in contacting the Tash-Pazash or the Pazash who had effectively dismissed the Jedi. But Obi-Wan still needed to report what they had seen.

With the holo-recorder on, Obi-Wan nodded his head in a bow and then carefully recalled all the events and activities that they had seen in the Zirosh Crater. No ships, no droids, no large encampments, no armies. But an inexplicable joint attack from both planetary factions. Obi-Wan put his hand to his waist before he remembered that he no longer wore his belt. He glanced back to where it lay on the floor in the back of the cabin.

He finished his report. The factions were unhappy with them and Commander Outsh had insisted that there was only bandit activity in the crater, which did appear to be likely since they had only observed light mobile forces suitable for policing criminals.

Sighing, he shut the com off and transmitted the message. Then he got up, edged between the two seats and retrieved his belt.

His lightsaber still hung from it, the most significant feature that he had noticed. But everything else was gone, the pouches emptied. Survival gear and rations, com, short range scanner, key cards, holo-recorder. He went forward and found the same thing with Qui-Gon's belt. He wondered if Outsh would claim that they had been robbed by the bandits, who had stripped them of any evidence of what they had seen but inexplicably left the weapons behind.

Obi-Wan slid into the pilot's seat and started the engines. He lifted off and headed into orbit. The planet's orbital traffic network automatically queried the ship and the computer sent its reply. There was a bland acknowledgment and nothing more. He left orbit and when the navi-comp produced the coordinates for Coruscant Obi-Wan confirmed the destination and went into hyperspace.

He sat back, his mind blank, staring at the glowing abstraction of hyperspace, rushing past the ship. Until his hungry stomach interrupted his non-contemplation of nothing.

He got up, checking Qui-Gon as he went to the rear of the cabin. Ship rations were tasty enough. And they could be warmed. He returned to his seat with a container of warm moolu casserole, dried fruits and a drinking bulb of hot tea.

Eating alone, he glanced toward his Master. He experimentally held up a scoopful of casserole under Qui-Gon's nose.

No response.

Obi-Wan shrugged and finished his meal.

After that he stretched and exercised in place in the back, careful, precise motions. He could feel his body passing and breaking down the last of the poisons of the drugs. His thoughts cleared. But the murkiness of the motives of the Pazash and Tash-Pazash remained and no light in the Force illuminated the outcome of their mission for him.

Eventually, he felt completely refreshed and went forward again. They were well past halfway to Coruscant. But Qui-Gon remained still. Obi-Wan touched the side of his face with the back of his hand. The skin felt warm.

Qui-Gon's deep blue eyes, almost black now, opened.

**- - - END Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**THE FOG OF PEACE**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 4**

"Master."

Obi-Wan laid a hand on his forehead. Qui-Gon moaned softly, squinting. He inhaled and Obi-Wan felt him reaching for the Force. They breathed together for a moment.

Grimacing, Qui-Gon moved his head, his awareness of his surroundings increasing. He tried to push himself up but the restraints held him down. Obi-Wan released them and Qui-Gon, one arm firmly wrapped around Obi-Wan's, straightened. Then his eyes opened wide, staring forward.

"We were dismissed by Commander Outsh," Obi-Wan explained. "We'll be back at the Temple soon."

Qui-Gon nodded mutely, slumping back in his seat and closing his eyes again. Obi-Wan did not need to ask how he felt. He could feel it through the Force, his palm, still resting on Qui-Gon's temple. Limbs, body and brain still sodden with the lingering drug, Qui-Gon dozed while Obi-Wan stayed close, waited for him to refocus himself.

It began with the flexing of hands and feet, tensing of arms and legs, testing of muscles, controlled motion in place. His Master slowly revived in measured, controlled steps, not visible to the eye, but in growing balance in the Force so long practiced it came from unconscious instinct. Obi-Wan remained at his side ready to help, but also mindful of everything his Master did, so that he should learn it.

Eventually, Qui-Gon opened his blue eyes, the pupils normal. He sighed, a long relieved breath. Obi-Wan smiled.

"You are feeling better now?" he asked.

Qui-Gon nodded. "Better only." Then he laid a hand on Obi-Wan's arm. "Thank-you for your help."

"I did not do anything of significance," Obi-Wan told him.

Now Qui-Gon smiled and patted his arm. "You greatly underestimate the value of your support, Obi-Wan. I will show you after we return." Pushing himself up from the armrests of the chair, he stood. Obi-Wan did support him this time as he swayed, but he caught his balance quickly and they went to the back of the cabin.

Qui-Gon used the facilities, then stretched and exercised his muscles the same way Obi-Wan had earlier. Except that Qui-Gon relied on pushing and supporting himself from the rear bulkhead, since he could not stand upright without hitting his head on something.

"So, Commander Outsh was unhappy with us," Qui-Gon commented.

"Yes. Very unhappy," he replied, nodding.

"Not surprising given what we discovered," he went on, pushing out from the gray metaloid bulkhead and then back in toward it, his feet firmly planted at twice shoulder width.

"What did we discover?" Obi-Wan asked, baffled.

Qui-Gon turned his head, looking back at him. "What did we see?"

"A small contingent of fighters and their base. Light equipment, speeders. No army."

"That appear to be armed for only bandits," Qui-Gon finished, pushing back from the bulkhead again. Then one arm supporting him, he stretched the other behind his back.

"Then why would they attack us? Take our equipment and claim that the bandits attacked us when they collaborated to drug us and removed us from the crater? It might make sense if one or the other side wished to conceal what we found. But why both?"

Qui-Gon turned around, bent at the knees and slowly squatted downward with the sound of joints cracking, arms out at his sides. He had an annoyingly amused glint in his eyes.

"You did review all of the background material in our mission briefing, Obi-Wan?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course."

"You are aware of the details of the long-standing political conflicts between the Pazash and Tash-Pazash?"

"Yes. But I don't see how that is relevant to what we saw."

Pushing up to almost standing, Qui-Gon slowly shook his head. Then he descended again, arms still out.

"I know you disdain politics, Obi-Wan. For good reason. But do not let your disdain for petty conflict lead you to ignore the details. To see the motives of those behind them."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to ask more, but the navi-comp bleeped for attention. They both went forward and took their seats. They both checked their position and with a nod from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan dropped the ship out of hyperspace. Their com was immediately assaulted by the automated orbital traffic controllers of Coruscant. The ship's computer replied with Jedi travel priorities and promptly received their flight course.

The com buzzed. From the Temple. Obi-Wan activated it and the tiny figure of Master Yaddle appeared between them over the holo-projector.

"Master Qui-Gon," the little image said, bowing. "Pleased, I am, to see recovered you are."

"I am as well," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "But I and my Padawan wish to visit the med-center before reporting to you."

"Expect that you should, I do," Yaddle said. "Congratulate you, I do, for your success, difficult as it was to achieve."

'Success?' Obi-Wan mouthed soundlessly. Qui-Gon caught it and smiled. He thanked Master Yaddle and signed off.

"Master, are you going to explain how we were successful?" Obi-Wan demanded, losing patience with Qui-Gon's cryptic smile.

"Yes, I shall," he answered looking forward. "Mind the ship, Obi-Wan."

The night side of the city-surface of Coruscant shone with streaks of light, the warm glow of the over-abundance of civilization. Obi-Wan set the computer to back-up-correct their course as he guided the ship down through the atmosphere.

"Why were the Jedi called for this mission?" Qui-Gon asked.

"As neutral parties to verify or disprove the claims of the Pazash that the Tash-Pazash were arming themselves."

"Who first made those claims?"

"The Pazash."

"The minority faction in the Pazash government. Who are opposing the majority in upcoming elections," Qui-Gon corrected. Now in atmosphere, their ship passed through thin clouds aglow with the scattered yellow and orange lights below.

"Is that important?"

"Yes. It is essential." Qui-Gon held up an instructive finger.

"There are factions within factions for both the Pazash and Tash-Pazash, but all sides maintain political power by enhancing the antagonism against their greatest enemy. It would be very inconvenient for either the Pazash or Tash-Pazash to explain to their supporters that they had a working truce between them to police the Zirosh Crater. With their greatest enemy."

They flew, gliding downward below the clouds over familiar city light patterns.

"But why would the Jedi be called by either of them?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Because the Pazash minority faction has political connections in the Galactic Senate. And they made an accusation too extreme and dangerous to ignore. It's very likely that they know nothing of the cooperation with the Tash-Pazash at all. But creating a fictitious invasion army could benefit their political aspirations."

Obi-Wan frowned at the controls. On the horizon, the boundary between night and dawn grew closer, blue sky brighter beyond it. "So, they were only hiding - - "

"Peace," Qui-Gon finished.

Obi-Wan scowled back, obviously unconvinced.

"There are many way of keeping the peace," Qui-Gon said with a sigh. "Some of them quite disagreeable. Deceptive. One might even say that some of them are criminal. But they are still far preferable to war."

Their ship crossed into dawn and then early morning, descending lower. Obi-Wan cut their speed, though they still traveled many times faster than the thin lines of speeder traffic now visible over the dense plane of buildings below.

"So, if we reveal what we saw, could that endanger the peace?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Possibly. But it will be up to the Jedi Council to decide what is said."

Obi-Wan cut their speed again. The spires of the Jedi Temple stood out above the city in the far distance.

"What will they say?" Obi-Wan's young blue-gray eyes looked toward him.

Qui-Gon sighed.

"They will likely announce the truth. There were no invasion armies hidden in the Zirosh Crater. And we were attacked by bandits."

**- - - END - - -**

This story first posted on tf.n: 10-Feb-2009

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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